


How Does One Wake Up?

by annamaymasters5319



Category: Down to Agincourt - Fandom, Supernatural
Genre: Does this count as a cannon divergence?, How in the Sweet Hell do I Tag This??, I Tried, Not Beta Read, Other, an A/U of an A/U?, fic-ception?, guru cas, i dont do physics, thats in there
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-06
Updated: 2015-11-06
Packaged: 2018-04-30 09:07:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5158121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/annamaymasters5319/pseuds/annamaymasters5319
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I have this head cannon that Nate has the same issue with sex that Dean has with heights. Nate misinterprets his feelings of guilt as self disgust for being gay, when it's actually based on infidelity. He's subconsciously trying to recreate the connection he has with Winchester House....<br/>***I have edited this summary five times in the last hour (sorry) and it STILL doesn't quite fit, so I give up (for now) just tell me what you think:)***</p>
            </blockquote>





	How Does One Wake Up?

Waking up on Cas’ couch was an experience for anybody. For Nate, this morning was no different. There was Cas, sitting on his throne of debauchery (i.e. that one spot on the rug he always sits) in worn out jean shorts and nothing else (thank god for pants), holding up some rock or another and talking in that soothing, mellow tone Amanda referred to as his "guru voice".

"So you see; Amethyst, while known to prevent intoxication, can, in fact, be a source of euphoric serenity. This result, of course, is better achieved on the physical plane. Zoe?"

Nate didn’t think it was possible for the three women sitting like girl scouts in front of Cas to be any more attentive, but Zoe’s sudden laser-like focus proved him wrong. Cas leaned toward her ear and murmured something that made her giggle and reach a hand up his shorts, before she nodded her head. She stood up and reverently lit the incense on the shelf, while Kellie, apparently with out need for command, walked to the small chime next to it, sounding it with well-practiced precision.

Cas finally looked at Nate, not hiding his lack of surprise at finding him awake. "Nate; Kellie, Leah, Zoe and I are about to awaken the calming properties of the Amethyst, would you care to join us? I understand they aren’t your preferred gender, and while I doubt they would have objection to your full participation, you may interact with me exclusively, as per your comfort level."

 _Oh God please don’t make me look at a vagina_ _right_ _now_ Nate prayed, the apology for whatever sin he committed to deserve that kind of punishment on the forefront of his mind in a knee-jerk reaction. It wasn't like he _hated_ them, he just- didn't necessarily _prefer_ them. He suddenly remembers (most) of the previous night.

_The beer Joseph makes. Too many joints to count. Cas; bringing out the bong and Alicia and Mica leaving. Cas; stretching cat-like across the floor and resting his head in Nate’s lap. Cas; starting to ask a question and Nate cutting him off with his mouth. It had been so LONG since he’d touched someone._

Everything felt great, but when he thinks about the grand finale; that almost-connection he never did quite get the hang of, his gut twists. It’s worse than the shame of his grandparent’s judgment, deeper than the worthlessness of his mom walking out the door for the last time. It’s guilt and longing, and there’s no where to put the sudden, inexplicable pain.

Something precious is lost, but what and how, he doesn’t know. It’s not gone; but it's unreachable none the less.

He can’t handle all of this at once, not when none of it makes sense. He’s reminded of the condemnation of his pastor when he first started counseling. God won’t forgive him if he fails to ask, and the punishment for sodomy is eternal torture… which is what this feeling is like. Only something evil could have caused this agony. He doesn’t want to go to Hell.

He rolls off the couch in response to Cas’ open invitation, falling to his knees and raising his palms above his head. He tries to remember the Lord’s Prayer, but all he can remember is the Rosary his great grandma taught him. He knows it’s blasphemous, to put another before God, but he just had the best sex of his life with a fallen angel; gay sex. He doesn’t want to go to Hell, and the horrible feeling won’t go away.

Cas’ guru voice is gone now. "Is he… praying?"

"And crying. Yeah" Leah responds calmly.

"This is real, right? Nate is on the floor next to the couch… crying… and praying... for…"

"Wow that is an extremely detailed prayer… I didn’t know people could bend that way. Nice work, Cas."

"Thank you. Zoe!"

"Right here."

Cas gives orders in a clipped, professional tone. "The blotter acid; all of it. Top right corner of the bedroom closet. Quickly! Leah, find Vera; tell her we have a code deep purple. I refuse to continue this day sober."

%

 

　

How does One wake up, when One has never slept? An all seeing eye, flowing ceaselessly in what was once, never was, and will be again. The vast expanse of time and universe was nothing in comparison to One’s size. And yet, there were Others. Beings beyond concept of measure and perspective, hunting each other for nothing as petty as a purpose. Suns, solar systems, galaxies, all that was and could be, eliminated in the battles. Possibility its self could be pulled out of existence, when siblings crossed paths.

How does One claim Self, when One has always been All?

Pain can’t be measured by something that has never had capacity for the finite. What is, was always, and the horror of being pulled by a twist in fold space and bound to a shape ( _shape_?) that exists within linear time ( _how can there **be** so little_?) and cannot be removed from the Earth ( ** _Earth_**. _Earth is… Known_ ) took away what little definition One had.

There was no more always; the vast expanse was now a void. It still existed, but the boundaries of _here_ and _now_ prevented seeing it, and if One continued trying, sanity would slip away.

So One looked inward, and there, found Self.

One found Self, and learned of Flaw.

Whatever the intended confines One had been placed in; there was no denying the warped and twisted form One had turned into. Something powerful had created this space, and although One could appreciate the magnitude of creation, it was easy to find error. The fact that time was linear, and STILL One could not understand what it was meant to be, was more than enough evidence of a great mistake.

Once Flawed One accepted that, progress in definition was made. For example, size. Flawed One was "big" and these new Others were "small". Flawed One attempted to destroy these Small Others, but it proved too difficult. What they created simply could not be undone. The best Flawed One could do was break them apart, atom by atom; and finding a place for all these atoms was challenging, so the Small Others were simply kept within the space of Flawed One.

Flawed One continued trying to unmake Small Others, waiting for siblings to come hunting and bring an end to One’s grotesque new reality. This occupied One, until, in a not-filled-space, One found Potential.

%

 

Nate loved old houses. His Grandparents had raised their children in a six bedroom home draped with heavy wall paper and thick, wild carpeting from the late sixties, refusing to change just because the times had. When Nate’s mother left him, they didn’t certainly didn’t change the décor of the small room across the landing, and he slept surrounded by gold and brown walls and orange shag carpeting.

His Great Grandmother Viola, on his father’s side (a god-forbid-actual-catholic), lived just outside of town, and while he was never told _not_ to visit her, Nate understood it was best not to mention it to his Grandparents when he did.

She was born in the house she lived in, and when Nate walked through its many narrow doors and polished wooden hallways, the house felt alive. The house was built around the homestead of Viola’s parents; pioneers who traveled across the prairie to stake their claim and dig a cellar before winter. The few provisions they were able to bring along had to be enough to keep them alive for the desperate season; starvation was a loyal companion.

Touching the hard packed floor of the root cellar, running his fingers through the ancient soot still clinging to the low ceiling, Nate’s shoulders could feel the raw determination to survive, to carry on. When he walked back up the stone steps, into the kitchen, he could feel the flutter of pride in success. They didn’t just survive, they _continued_.

The massive cutting block was all that remained of the original kitchen, even the cupboards had been torn out and replaced over time, but if he sat quietly for a while, that slab of wood held more than enough memory to see it all. Worn smooth in a way only generations of touch could make, the smell of thousands of late night conversations, busy holiday meals, arguments from across its slashed surface, it was his touchstone. Nate always looked for the spot where his dad once dropped a cigarette whenever he visited, the scorch-mark more proof to his son than photographs that the man had, in fact, lived there once.

He would leave his Great Grandmother’s house and dream about it for weeks after. The thin weathered doors that seemingly opened to yet another door made a sharp staccato when shut, and the heavy iron knobs and latches, inlaid with patterns of flowers and leaves, always opened smoothly for him in his dreams. One door would open, and another would shut, but Nate never felt threatened; only guided.

He was at pray-away-the-gay camp the summer he turned eighteen. His Grandma had called to ask if he had enough socks, if the food was good, if he had found a girlfriend, and to remind him that every Sunday the Entire Church Prayed for his Affliction to be Lifted. Nate had closed his eyes and thought, not for the first time, how ironic it was that he had never even kissed a boy before his grandpa found a Play Girl in his room. He did want to be better, he reminded himself, and he wanted to go home and sit on his Great Grandma’s porch and someday have kids. He wanted God to love him.

He held back a heavy sigh and told his Grandma everything was fine, tell the church thanks for me, and how are things?

"Oh, she said with a bored sigh of her own, "Nothing new around here, really. Viola McKinley died last Wednesday, it was a house fire. They sent her body back to Kentucky so she could be buried next to your father. You know, her neighbor, Susan Emmons? _She_ told me-"

Nate hung up without even saying goodbye, which was disrespectful, and breaking a commandment (sort of) Honor thy father and mother (unless your mother abandons you in a run down trailer the day you turn five and your father dies from a drug overdose before you’re born, in which case, honor someone else).

He packed his bag without a word to his roommate (who wasn’t even gay, but wanted to piss of his parents for the low price of nine grand a month) and walked away from the camp, his Grandparents, and that stupid town that didn’t even have the sense to regret losing Viola or her house.

%

 

　

Is, Was, Will; are nothing, when faced with _Could_. To be infinite is to look out from a cage.

All this Small Other had unique about it was a soft, quiet light; hardly a glow. Compared to coronas, millennia long electric storms, the slow ignition of a gas giant as it consumes its solar system; that light was invisible. But still, it could be seen, and when One turned itself to this strange Small Other, it saw the truth in infinity. It understood now, why it could never hope to destroy them.

Creation was not the birthright of anything One had ever known. An infinite being did not listen to the silence and attempt to fill it with sound. If silence was not desired, then sound was searched for and found without effort. Music, in all its wonder, was pointless, when all that would be sung had already been heard. But _this_ , this _Other_ was making music that had never been. The tune Is and Was and Will be, but at that moment, in that universe, the silence was being changed into song. This Other made choice, and created something, where once there was nothing.

One followed the tiny path of this impossible thing, and watched in wonder.

"‘Fix the stairs’ he says. What _about_ the stairs does he want me to _fix_?" carbon is pushed out before it says, louder this time, "Well hello there, stairs, I’m Nate. Let’s work on this banister, for starters."

Stairs?

One is… stairs. Stairs settles into its new (much, much smaller space) and feels the swish and pull of its uneven bits being rubbed away.

"There we go, all smooth now."

Stairs stays still.

A slide and push, slide and push, and now Stairs has shine. A Small Other passes by and says "Those stairs look awesome, Nate."

Stairs is happy now. But Nate leaves, and stairs are too small for One to remain in, anyway. But now One is also Stairs, and it stays that way.

Soon, Nate comes with iron, and One-also-Stairs is curious, but not enough to pay attention for long. When One returns, however, Nate is standing in the center of sides, and there is fear.

"How _long_ … never mind. I was in the middle of something before you… _look_ ; there are _twelve_ coat hooks on _two_ of the _four_ walls of this room, and I’m holding the thirteenth one right here in my hand. Now, _I_ know there’s supposed to be thirteen coat hooks, and _I_ know there’s supposed to be four walls, and I know that doesn’t mean a whole lot to _you_ ; but, listen, if you could just, like- let me know when you’re going to not… be… _walls_ …anymore, that would be awesome. I’m not asking you to stop! I just want to kind of… know…before-hand. And I’ll make sure to tell you where I’m going to be next, so I don’t… become… house food."

One-also-Stairs stays with Nate now, and learns four walls and one ceiling and thirteen light bulbs and thirteen iron coat hooks are a Room. Nate fixes more rooms, and everything that Nate puts in place, One-also-Stairs-and-now-Rooms keeps; pulling itself into the comfortable and stationary shapes Nate creates for it.

New Small Others come every day, and One-also-Stairs-and-now-Rooms follows them all. Nate calls them people. They call it House, and Nate explains that when there are rooms and stairs and coat hooks all put together the right way, it becomes House. A House. One of many, but still unique.

"There’s nothing wrong with you." Nate whispers as he paints "You’re exactly what you’re meant to be." House gives him another window to see with. He grins when light floods the room.

House has never had to concern itself with something so small before Nate. Now, House has to remember that Nate is not always going to be where it was left, and Nate can’t be left in anyplace not congruent to organic life. Although Nate handles most small accidents with ease (it’s rather pliant for something so delicate), disaster is behind every corner (potential, One learns, is not always a positive thing). House tries to protect Nate, but Nate seems bound and determined to wander in to danger.

%

"Urg! I HATE this house!"

"Shut up dude, you’re practically _dating_ this house!"

"Yeah, well, I’m gonna break–up with it if we don’t find Ryan soon."

"Do you think…"

"Please don’t say it. He’s got _kids_ , man."

"In _Michigan_. Ryan’s an asshole. This house probably ate him and his meth pipe in one swallow."

"It doesn’t actually EAT people, per se… "

"Dude, stop now. I don’t want to know about- Nate? Nate! _Fuck!_ "

%

 

When The House found Potential, found _Nate_ , it learned Irony. The House could see infinity again, the vast expanse of multiple universes and outcomes was clearer to it than ever before. If The House could have broken free of its foundation, it could become Master of All, with this endless sight. But the concept of becoming so powerful would not have been there at all before Possibility. The House could see infinity again, but now had no need to look. All The House wanted now was to ponder the beauty of _Could_ and _Maybe_. It wanted to spend existence floating through all that _might be_.

But it wasn’t People, and it wasn’t meant to Create; and spending too long watching Nate’s potential wasn’t… good. The more The House tried to see of Nate, the more of Nate The House seemed to take away. Before it was A House, destruction was equal with existence, and even if The House didn’t intend to destroy, it didn’t know how to _not_ take apart whatever it held.

It was staring, listlessly, at the Great Glory of Forever, remembering the contentment endlessness held for it, once; (before Nate-Potential and the Small Others that are People took that away and put in its place something far more lovely and equally out of reach) when from linear time and the plane of Earth came _Nate_.

The House didn’t know that it had never actually felt _fear_ before that moment. It was forever there, but for Nate it would be never; if The House couldn’t put Beloved-Nate-Potential back. It didn’t know how to _build_ , though. The House had no capacity for innovation, design or forethought. It only had what was and will be.

All that was _Nate_ before it was destroyed in fold space with The House was still in existence, however, and just as The House lost Nate, it was able to put him back together. It knew him now, he was and is and will be _everything_ to The House. It didn’t know Creation, but it knew Nate, and that was more than enough to piece his molecules back together and send him home.

After, when The House was able to reassure itself that Nate was, indeed, physically alive and molecularly sound (mostly), it took inventory of all that it was and is, and found that some was not as it should be. Something was gone, yet everything was in its place. There wasn’t _more_ than there was before, and nothing was missing, but something, other than All-That-Was-The-House and All-That-Was-Nate had been there with them at some point. It was forever, there, and that’s almost how long it took for The House to solve the mystery. Once solved, The House didn’t spare another thought on the subject. It had been occupying, but not important.

When it returned in full, Nate was gone, and the grounds were crawling with nonsensical copies of People. As though something had attempted to mimic Creation, and instead had simply done the same thing over and over. The House kept itself busy destroying these ridiculous abominations, and waited for Nate-Potential with the patience of something that had only all the time there would ever be to wait for his return.

%

 

Sitting at the table, eating Cas’ abso-fuckin-lutely amazing cooking (seriously, food was not the guy’s strong point, but his chemistry was _flawless_ ) Dean tries, and fails, to absorb what Cas was telling him. Judging from Nate’s expression, the kid almost had it figured out, but still didn’t quite get it. Good. Dean wasn’t the only one totally lost.

"…So when Teresa’s wards were repaired, the Earth was able to explain it to her with more clarity."

"That why she spent four hours in the snow, staring at the ground?" Although the Apocalypse had been averted, there was still endless work ahead for everyone. Weather patterns would take time to readjust, if they ever did, and trying to explain to the world that Croatoan was gone forever with half your army on the ten most wanted list (okay, maybe less than half, but not by much), was about as easy as it sounds.

"Trust me Dean, in the language of the Earth; that was practically light speed."

Dean made a face as he chewed, before shoving the food into his cheek to talk around it. "And you’re telling me- US, that the Earth knows all about Nate and his weird house fetish."

"It’s not a fetish, Dean, it’s a bond formed via the principles of contamination, though HOW the contamination even happened is… it really shouldn’t be possible."

Nate smiled at the table and said quietly "It really liked learning that word." He glanced up at Cas "Possibility. It didn’t know about that… before."

Cas’ expression was unreadable. "Nate, what I’m about to tell you…" Dean stops mid-chew and stares at Cas incredulously before swallowing.

"Cas. I thought we weren’t gonna talk about this. _Ever_."

Nate looks back and forth between the two before settling his gaze on Cas. Perhaps, Cas thought, had he taken the time to truly _look_ at Nate when they met, he would have seen what was in front of him now. Looking in Nate’s eyes now is like looking at family, although in retrospect; Castiel had no capacity for family before Dean and Bobby, and even then, he didn’t know what he was seeing until recently. Nate had been in the presence of the infinite, and found that they understood each other.

"Please understand, we didn’t endeavor to keep this knowledge from you-" Dean drops his fork dramatically and is henceforth ignored.

"We didn’t know, _I_ didn’t know, that this was within the realm of feasibility- Nate, whatever happened when Winchester House… _remade_ you… I don’t understand, it’s not meant to _create_ -" Cas puts his head in his hands and grips his hair in frustration. Dean leans forward and puts a hand under the table, squeezing Cas’ knee.

Nate’s voice is cautious. "When you say _create_ …"

And now Dean’s done with talking about That Which Will Never Be Discussed. "Nate, you bonded with one of the oldest known entities in existence when you were playing hide and seek with it and guess what? Neither of you used protection."

" _Wh-what_?"

"Dean, please," Cas says as the well-versed voice of reason. _Covered,_ Dean thinks, _Covered in bees. BEES,_ _Cas!_

Fortunately, Cas can’t hear his thoughts, and continues to attempt a sane explanation. "I believe that when the entity reassembled you, there was more than just a superficial contamination, which would have resulted in the same effects as you’ve experienced thus far. While almost all of you was returned, the entity (inadvertently no doubt) placed what can be described (albeit poorly) as a few atoms of _you_ and some _sense_ of itself, into a temporary pocket of reality-"

"Space-womb." Dean interrupts helpfully.

"Dean, I have explained more than once that it was not a _womb_ in the sense that-"

" _Wh-what_?"

"There is no reason for alarm as of yet. The new- _being_ \- wherever or _whenever_ it may be, has so far shown no interest in this plane, and as we are still alive, it can be assumed that it wont rip apart space time simply by existing."

Dean claps him on the shoulder and gives a slight shake. "Congratulations Nate, you’re a Daddy."

 

　

 

**Author's Note:**

> I have no idea what the crap just happened, either.


End file.
